


see they want to buy my pride

by spiekiel



Series: the hundred [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Firefighter Bellamy, Fluff, Kid Fic, past clarke griffin/wells jaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiekiel/pseuds/spiekiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is a firefighter.  Clarke's kids tend to set things on fire a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see they want to buy my pride

The front door is painted sky blue.  

 

In hindsight, Bellamy will realize that it says something about Clarke that her first line of defense is painted the same color as her eyes, but right now, walking up the cobblestone staircase from the parking circle where he left his motorcycle, he’s just wondering what kind of rich assholes Octavia has been babysitting for the last two months. 

 

He knocks, because using the doorbell always makes him feel like he ought to go roll in some mud for a while.It swings open a few seconds later, and there balanced precariously on one foot, in a skirt suit and a pair of glasses that look like they came out of a 1980s version of Harry Potter, is the rest of Bellamy’s life.

 

“Dr. Griffin?” he asks.She’s got gold hair and freckles, lips that Bellamy thinks would look gorgeous laughing, legs he’d like wrapped around his waist.  

 

She gives him a quick once over and demands, businesslike, “You’re Octavia’s brother?” The clasp of her shoe finally catches, and she drops her leg to stand on two feet.She’s barely up to his chin, even in four inch heels, but she’s got a stare from behind those tortoiseshell glasses that could halt God in his tracks.

 

“Bellamy Blake,” he holds out his hand.She has a firm handshake.“O told me to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t make it.She thinks she’ll feel better by tomorrow.”

 

“Well, thanks for covering for her,” Clarke’s collecting a mash of keys, id badges, and more than one phone from the table just inside the entryway, stuffing them in one hand since apparently she’s the one woman on earth who doesn’t carry a purse.“You’re a real lifesaver.Octavia says you’re a firefighter?”

 

The California summer sun is making the back of Bellamy’s neck sweat, so he runs his hand over it.“Yeah,” he says, “why? Expecting any fires?” 

 

One of the phones in Clarke’s hand buzzes, and she nearly drops her keys.“Maybe.There’re fire extinguishers on every floor on the west side, and there are Class B and D dry solvent extinguishers under the island counter in the kitchen in case there are any chemical fires,” without taking a breath, she ushers him inside the foyer, stepping out onto the porch in one smooth motion.“I’d introduce you to the boys, but they’re in the basement and I really have to get going, so - “

 

She turns back through the front door, and yells into the house, “ _Jasper, Monty! Miss Octavia’s brother is here to watch you!”_

 

From somewhere in the bowels of the mansion come the distracted, “Okay, mom!” replies of a first grader and a fourth grader with much better things to be doing.Bellamy has been warned about these two by his sister, but most of her advice has been about avoiding flying yogurt and not stepping on legos, not _chemical explosions,_ for fuck’s sake.

 

“I’ll be back around ten,” Clarke is saying from the front step, absentmindedly scrolling through her messages at the same time.“There’s left over lasagna in the fridge that they probably won’t eat, corn dogs in the freezer that they will eat too many of, and a movie in the dvd player that should put them to sleep long enough for me to make it home and actually get them into bed.”

 

She turns off the phone, looks up at him, and grins.“Don’t let them intimidate you.”Before he can argue that he’s not about to be intimidated by a couple of kids, she adds, “Thanks again, Bellamy,” and the way his name sounds on her lips keeps him stuck with a lopsided smile and a weird half-wave in the door for the entire minute it takes for Clarke to get down to her hideous Mercedes minivan.

 

He has a long moment alone as she drives off and he closes the front door to wonder what the hell he’s gotten himself into.Then there’s a muffled boom from the basement underneath his feet, and he hears the frantic patter of little feet on a staircase, and, “ _Mister Octavia’s brother, it’s on fire!”_

 

∞

 

The next time he’s at the Griffin house, it’s ten p.m, the little pyromaniacs are in bed, and he’s bringing Octavia chinese takeout for dinner.  

 

The only car in the driveway is Octavia’s tiny blue Chevy Spark, and Bellamy tries to convince himself he’s not disappointed at all that he’s not going to get to see what Dr. Clarke Griffin wears when she’s curled up on the couch watching _Chopped_ , which - 

 

Okay, Bellamy watches a lot of Food Network, and he’s met this woman once, and he seriously needs to calm down.Because Clarke certainly hadn’t looked twice at him the last time they met, and she’s married with kids, probably an upper class princess anyways.

 

Octavia opens the door before he can knock, making grabby hands at the takeout bag.“I’m _starving,”_ she says, a smirk curling the corner of her lips because she knows he gave up trying to make her use the literal meanings of words when she was like eight.“Come in, come in.”

 

She herds him and the food into the kitchen, the site of a major pudding mudslide the last time Bellamy was here.Alone, this one room is bigger than the apartment he and Octavia lived in right after their mother died, while he was taking night classes to get his degree and she was in eighth grade, both of them living off what he made at the odd construction job - 

 

“Did you get Mongolian beef?” she’s had a weird affinity for it ever since she started dating that Mongolian kid in sophomore year, which he doesn’t really understand because it’s not even Mongolian, but whatever.

 

“Yes, O, I got Mongolian beef.You only texted me seven times in five minutes not to forget it - “

 

“It’s not like I don’t have reason to worry.You’ve forgotten it in the past.Chopsticks?”

 

“Yeah, and plastic forks for when you give up.”The takeout cartons get unloaded on the counter, and they end up sitting next to each other with a cluster of open dishes between them, Octavia looking determined with a pair of chopsticks balanced precariously in one hand.  

 

The mansion is oddly peaceful, with Jasper and Monty asleep, but it feels - not lived in.Like, the only things strewn about are some tubs of Play-doh and a pair of high heels that probably cost more than Bellamy makes in a month firefighting, but there are no photos, nothing hanging on the walls, no overcrowded bookshelves or socks in places where they shouldn’t be.He’d been too preoccupied not letting the kids blow themselves up last time to notice, but now the house feels - empty.

 

“When are the Griffins getting home?” he asks.

 

Octavia twirls up a mouthful of lo mein on her chopsticks, and answers, “One Griffin.Singular.Clarke’s not married, at least not anymore.”

 

“Right,” Bellamy says, grinning as he spears the last piece of chicken out of his moo goo gai pan.“What did the ex-Mr. Griffin do that left his wife so much money in the divorce?”

 

He’s expecting a laugh, but Octavia’s glaring at him.“The _late_ Mr. Griffin was a kindergarten teacher,” she says, a little venemously.“Clarke’s a neurosurgeon, she makes all her own money.”

 

Bellamy feels a little like an asshole, but he’s never been good at backtracking once he’s started down the wrong path, so he asks another dumb question.“How’d she end up with an asian kid and a white kid, then?”

 

Octavia’s going to stab him with chopsticks in about three seconds if he doesn’t fix something here, but she still growls, “Adoption, idiot.”

 

Bellamy opens his mouth to make some sort of reparations, but his sister flicks edamame at him and it hits him in the cheek, which shuts him up pretty quick.“I know you don’t trust anyone with money,” Octavia continues, “but Clarke’s good people.So are her kids.So, give them a chance, would you?”

 

He thinks of Clarke’s eyes, her stupidly endearing glasses and the way she’d smiled at him, hadn’t even taken a second look at the sweaty state he’d been in when he rolled up to her doorstep, fresh from quality time with a broken down fire engine, white undershirt smeared with grease stains.  

 

There’s the sound of the front door opening and closing before Bellamy can formulate an answer for Octavia.The clatter of keys and phones on the foyer table, and then Clarke appears in the doorway to the kitchen, shoes in one hand, in frumpy scrubs instead of the smart pencil skirt he last saw her in.

 

Her tangled hair is pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck, and her makeup has seen better days, but even through the smudge of eyeshadow Bellamy can tell she’s the most exhausted person he’s ever seen.She takes them both in with slow, tired eyes, and offers them a small smile.

 

“Sorry I’m late, Octavia, there was a pileup on the turnpike and I got called into triage.”Even her voice sounds like it’s been going for too long, like it’s out of fuel, and Bellamy wonders how long it’s been since she slept, and feels a strange urge to bundle her into bed.

 

“No problem,” Octavia smiles.“The boys were great, the new slip-n-slide tired them out enough that they were practically asleep before dinner.They got a second wind after ice cream and tried to weaponize the Play-doh, but I got them upstairs before Jasper could figure out the right magnesium content.”

 

Clarke gives the Play-doh tubs a fond look.“Is nothing safe from my kids?”

 

Bellamy’s not really sure what he’s thinking when he says, “We have extra Chinese, if you haven’t eaten.”

 

Clarke looks at him, looks at the takeout cartons, and deflates a little bit.“I - “ she glances down the hall, to where a staircase leads upstairs to the second and third floors.“I think I’m just going to turn in early, actually,” she says.“But thank you.”  

 

“You need anything else before we head out?” Octavia asks, and Bellamy has to close his mouth because he was about to ask the same thing.

 

Clarke shakes her head.“I think I can handle myself alright,” she says, and there’s a bit of a defensive edge there.And dismissively, “Nice to see you again, Bellamy, and Octavia, I’ll see you on Monday.”

 

She turns to leave down the hallway, walking gingerly but with heavy steps at the same time, leaving them with a ton of chinese food that Bellamy now understands Octavia’s request for.  

 

His sister goes back to twirling up lo mein, and she waits to hear the creak of the floor above them before she says through a mouthful, “She had an eighteen hour shift today. Her neighbor Wick was here with Jasper and Monty for three hours before I got here.”

 

Bellamy gets up to throw out his empty carton, feeling a little trapped on the counter stool.“That’s a long time.She must have steady hands.”He turns back to the counter stiffly, and Octavia’s grinning at him in a way that does not bode well, so he asks, “Is there a bathroom around here?”

 

Octavia stands.“Yeah, but they’re remodelling the downstairs, so you’ll have to go up.”

 

The upstairs hallways are dark and cool, wide spaces with little offshoots of rooms every dozen yards or so.There’s nothing on the walls up here, either, so Bellamy doesn’t really have any excuse for the way his eyes are wandering, not just looking for the bathroom, but picking up on things, like the fire extinguisher on the west wall and the single orchid sitting under a window, the open door at the end of the hall - 

 

Bellamy hesitates outside the bathroom door for a moment before his feet decide for him that he’s moving, and he drifts down to the open door.

 

It’s the master bedroom.There’s a single reading lamp on, illuminating the bed, which - Clarke is sprawled out on her side, already mostly asleep, enough that she doesn’t notice him, glasses gone, with Monty tucked in against her chest and Jasper sprawled out with his head pillowed on her arm, and her lips are moving softly over Monty’s messy hair, murmuring something he can’t hear, doesn’t really have any right to hear.

 

There’s a wide open space on the bed behind Clarke, an empty pillow where Bellamy thinks he would fit.

 

He shakes his head at the thought, squeezing his eyes shut, and makes a hasty retreat to the bathroom.

 

∞

 

The third time he sees Clarke, he’s on duty and her house is on fire.

 

His heart feels louder than the engine’s siren.He’s hung onto the back with his helmet on and the wind buffeting his face, and they’re speeding through light suburban traffic but it feels to slow.He can’t see smoke in the sky, but he’s experienced the destructive potential of the Griffin children first hand, and it doesn’t leave him too confident that they’re not going to arrive to a raging blaze - 

 

Monroe skids the engine around the last bend, up Clarke’s street, skids to a halt in front of the Griffin’s lawn, and Bellamy’s off the back and on his own two feet before they’re even done moving.  

 

The house looks okay, it’s not charred to the ground at least, but there’s a steady plume of purple smoke chugging out the kitchen window.Clarke and the kids are sitting on the grass, all three of them in pajamas, none of them in shoes, and Bellamy takes a brief moment to be glad Clarke didn’t try to put this out herself.

 

He pulls his helmet off as he jogs up, and Clarke stands up to meet him, disentangling from Jasper and Monty, neither of whom look too rattled by the situation.

 

“Bellamy,” Clarke breathes, sounding relieved, “thank god.Watch the boys for a minute.”

 

Bellamy’s brain is still catching up by the time Clarke is halfway to the front door, moving determinedly up the front step and into the house.Fucking _crazy,_ gorgeous idiot _-_

 

He swears.“Monroe!” she snaps around to attention.He points to Monty and Jasper, holding hands on the grass in front of him, “Watch the kids!” Monroe nods sharply.

 

Bellamy turns and starts running towards the door after Clarke.Behind him, he hears Jasper’s voice, “It’s a potassium fire!” but he doesn’t really register it.His heavy boots clunk over the hardwood in the entrance hall, and he shoves his helmet back on to breathe through the chemical smoke wafting out of the kitchen.  

 

“Clarke!” he shouts.She’s nowhere to be seen, so he moves towards the stairs and the back of the house, still shouting her name with every couple of steps.  

 

Most of the house is unaffected by the chaos in the kitchen, but Bellamy’s still about ready to yell his head off at her by the time he finds her, lying on the floor in the master bedroom and digging under the bed.She pulls out just as he’s running into the room, hair tangled in her glasses and mussed over her head from its contact with the bed skirt, a small photo album clutched in one hand.

 

She sees him and frowns, “I told you to watch Jasper and Monty - “

 

“What the _hell_ are you doing, Clarke?” he snaps.“Your house is on _fire_ \- “

 

She starts to open her mouth to argue with that, like it’s not a _fact_ , but he hoists her to her feet and throws her over his shoulder.She says something like, “Put me the _fuck_ down,” but more vulgar, and Bellamy ignores her in favor of clumping down the stairs, past the kitchen fire and back out into the open air, even as the rest of his team is streaming inside to put out the potassium fire.

 

His hand wraps most of the way around the back of Clarke’s knee where he’s holding her, and he can feel the knobs of her spine under his other palm, so he’s reluctant to put her back down on her feet, even when they reach the safe perimeter that Monroe’s set up.  

 

But he has to, because Jasper and Monty are breaking away from Monroe and bouncing at them at the hyper speed that only children below the age of ten can really achieve.He sets her down just in time for Jasper to barrell into her and wrap his arms around her waist, as high as he can reach.

 

Bellamy feels something collide with his legs, and he’s surprised to see five-year-old Monty tugging at his uniform pants, face smeared with tears.“Bewamy,” he sniffles, and - Bellamy’s heart _melts_.He reaches down and scoops the kid up, staying close to Clarke as Monty burrows his little face into Bellamy’s jacket, and he doesn’t really understand why this is happening, but he doesn’t care.

 

Clarke is petting Jasper’s head, one arm wrapped around him and the other still clutching the photo album like a life preserver.“I’m sorry,” she soothes her son, “Everything’s fine, I just had to go get dad - “

 

Jasper pulls away from her and grabs the photo album, opening it to a page near the middle on instinct.Monty makes an urgent noise in Bellamy’s arms, straining for Clarke, and so he makes the pass, the small asian boy hooking his arms around Clarke’s neck.She mouths, “Thank you,” to him, and he doesn’t know what you’re supposed to say when it’s your job but also more, so he just nods.

 

He’s turning to leave them alone when his eye catches the page Jasper has the photo album open to - it’s a smiling family portrait, informal with all of them sitting around a tree in front of a different house, Clarke and Monty and Jasper and an african american man Bellamy doesn’t recognize who must be Mr. Griffin, warm and happy, pressing a kiss to the side of Clarke’s head.

 

He looks down at Jasper, the fourth grader’s grubby hands on the protective plastic of the album pages, down at Monty still tucked tiredly into Clarke, who’s glaring at the house like she wants to fight it, and wishes that man were here.

 

∞

 

Having seen the state in which _science_ has left the Griffins’ kitchen, Bellamy probably shouldn’t be so surprised to find Clarke in the frozen food aisle of the supermarket.He still stops in his tracks at the end of the row, watching her debating with Jasper over two different microwave pizzas, and tries to think of what Octavia would tell him to do in this situation.

 

Because Bellamy sucks at this.Bellamy would just continue on and go get the next thing on his shopping list, pretend that he never saw her even though every part of him wants to go over and talk to her.

 

Before he can decide to bolt for the produce section, Monty sees him, starts bouncing around in their shopping cart, and announces, “Mommy, Bewamy!”

 

Clarke turns, two pizzas still in hand, and smiles, which makes her glasses move on her face and is probably the most adorable thing Bellamy has ever seen, he hates it.“Hi,” she says, “How are you?”

 

This is a normal person thing to ask.This is what Bellamy should have asked, probably, instead of standing with his basket gazing at them affectionately at them like an idiot.“Good, uh - good,” he replies, walking towards them.“How are you? How’s the house?”

 

“I’m good,” Clarke says, handing Jasper one of the pizzas.He fist pumps triumphantly and dumps it in thecart.“The house is recovering.I’m taking time off work to help these two - “ she ruffles her kids’ hair - “learn how to properly, _safely_ combine potassium sulfide and nitrogen chlorate.”

 

Bellamy raises his eyebrows at that.“There is no safe way.It always explodes.”

 

“We’re getting a fume hood,” Jasper puffs out his chest proudly.

 

Monty pulls himself to his feet inside the cart, “Yeah, so - so there’s less ’splosions.”

 

Bellamy looks at Clarke, who’s biting back a grin.“I’m on duty Monday through Thursday from 6 to 9 and Saturday morning from 8 to 12.Why don’t you try and limit the potentially explosive experiments to then?”

 

Clarke’s eyes are smiling, which is just as beautiful as Bellamy thought it would be.Jasper declares loudly, “Science knows not mortal bounds!” and high-fives Monty, who just says, “Yeah!”

 

Clarke finally lets herself grin outright, and offers, “As a neurosurgeon, I have sworn an oath not to impede the growth and exploration of young brains.”

 

Bellamy could argue and say that’s not how that works, that she’s endangering herself and her kids by letting them play with fire, but her hair is coming out of her ponytail around her head, a golden halo in the fluorescent lights, and he thinks he knows where they got it from.So instead, he laughs lightly, and says, “Frozen pizza for dinner, huh?”

 

Clarke shrugs.“The microwave was the only thing that survived.”

 

“You should come to Octavia’s and my apartment for dinner,” Bellamy says.

 

Clarke hesitates, glancing back at the two boys using the shopping cart like a jungle gym.Monty asks very seriously, “Do you and Miss Octavia have dino chicken nuggets?”

 

Bellamy nods, and he can’t help the twitchy upturn at the corners of his mouth.“They’re on my list.”

 

Jasper crows happily, “Then we accept!”

 

That’s that.Clarke replaces all of the frozen pizzas and Bellamy goes to find dinosaur chicken nuggets and Sponge-bob mac and cheese for good measure, forgetting his long list of produce and protein bars.He meets them at the other side of the register, where Clarke presents him with a gift of party cake ice cream, which looks disgusting but which Octavia loves and the kids are really excited about, and the groceries go in the back of Clarke’s minivan because he ended up with too many to fit in the saddlebags of his bike. 

 

He spends about three seconds worrying what they’re going to think of his apartment, these people who live in a two million dollar house, but then Jasper figures out he lives on the seventh floor and says delightedly, “You live way high up!” and it’s fine. 

 

Octavia is delighted to see him come back with more people than he left with, and is apparently very adept at cooking up chicken nuggets and mac and cheese in no time at all.Jasper and Monty spend the whole process regaling his sister with tales of the renovations now happening in their kitchen, and she smiles and makes impressed comments at the right intervals, which lets Clarke sit down, which - 

 

She looks like she needs the rest.Bellamy can sympathize, with those few years he spent going to college and working and raising Octavia at the same time, but - he can only imagine, raising two mad scientists and working doctor’s hours at the same time, even with Octavia’s help, must be insane.She still looks solid, but he has a feeling she’s the sort of person who always looks solid.

 

Their little two person table somehow manages to fit the five of them, and Octavia sticks a heaping plate of chicken nuggets and a pot of mac and cheese in the middle instead of trying to figure out how much everyone’s going to eat.  

 

“Mommy, Miss Octavia makes the _best_ mac and cheese,” Jasper says.Bellamy’s been noticing that his sister has a tiny admirer in that curly-haired kid, and by Clarke’s indulgent smile he figures she knows too.

 

“One day, Miss Octavia will have to have a mac and cheese cook-off with your granddad Tholonius,” Clarke says.“He is _crazy_ as anything, but he makes a great bread crumb mac.”

 

When she leans forward to scoop pasta onto Monty’s plate, her leg brushes his, and even through the fabric of his jeans it’s enough to make his hands stutter, because he’s been admiring those legs all night, bare in cut-off shorts and flip-flops.“I’ll do it,” Octavia says.“I never back down from a cook-off.”

 

“You’d better not,” Bellamy says, “you’re going to culinary school.”  

 

“I’m double-majoring in pediatric psychology and culinary arts,” Octavia explains to Clarke.“They’re letting me call it _food therapy_.”

 

Clarke laughs.“That’s fantastic.”

 

“It’s ridiculous,” Bellamy says, but he’s smiling.  

 

“Says the man who majored in ancient Roman architecture and then promptly became a firefighter,” Octavia retaliates.  

 

Clarke chuckles, absently intercepting a chicken nugget from Jasper’s plate as it starts to fly towards Monty.“My freshman year, I was all set to major in sub-saharan african studies,” she says.  

 

“What made you change your mind?” Bellamy asks.

 

“My - uh,” Clarke locks her eyes on his, and there’s something tight in her gaze.“My mom decided she’d only pay for med school, so I transferred.”

 

“Well, that was a dick move on your mom’s part,” Octavia declares.Bellamy jerks his head pointedly towards the kids, but Octavia just shrugs.“I trained them to ignore cursing.”

 

“It was fine,” Clarke says.“I stayed in the states instead of going off to save Congo, got married to my best friend since grade school, got a couple of awesome kids.”She shrugs.“It worked out.”

 

“We’re the awesome kids, right mom?” Jasper asks cheekily.  

 

Eight o’clock finds Octavia and the boys sitting cross-legged on her bed with bowls of ice cream, yelling at her Mongolian boyfriend’s x-box that he keeps here for some reason.Clarke’s sunk into the terrible old recliner couch in their living room, a plastic cup of sparkling cider in one hand because she’s still considering driving home tonight, looking more at home than Bellamy’s seen her yet, even in her own house.

 

Bellamy’s sitting closer to her than is probably safe given his proven lack of judgement and self-control wherever Clarke is concerned, and he feels restricted by the distance between them.She’s sitting with her legs tucked under her and her shoulder is just barely-brushing his upper arm every time she breathes too deep, but he wants so badly to hold her.  

 

“Monty’s been watching a lot of _Go, Diego, Go!_ , which feautres Dora the explorer’s zookeeper prodigy kid cousin,” Clarke is saying, a kind of absent ramble just to fill the space, like she’s not ready to leave and she can’t find a reason to stay, and - Bellamy is in the same position.He just - wants her here.  

 

“Which is good because it keeps him occupied, but he keeps saying he wants to get a coatimundi, because apparently they have great tails, but I don’t know what that is or if it’s even legal in the United States - “ She stops, looking at him.“What? Did I end up with ice cream on my face?”

 

He smiles that dopey smile again, which is ridiculous because nothing’s funny, he just - her freckles, and her sky blue eyes, her steady warmth and _her,_ and - 

 

“Sorry,” he says, “I just - have to.”

 

A tiny crinkle appears in her brow, and he can tell she’s about to ask a dumb question he hasn’t got an answer to, so instead of letting her, he leans forward and presses his lips to hers.

 

It’s close-mouthed, gentle, it’s nowhere near enough, but Clarke makes a soft sound and moves foward against him, her hand sliding around his waist, and his chest is filled to bursting.He cradles her head in his hands, her curls sliding through his fingers, and his nose bumps the frame of her glasses, but he can feel the smiling lilt to her lips, and she tastes better than anything in the world.

 

She goes off-balance, and catches herself on his chest, tilting her head away slightly, so there’s a shared breath’s space between them.“I - “ she murmurs, “Bellamy.”

 

“Yeah?” he says, and he can’t keep the teasing note out of his voice.  

 

“I can’t.Not tonight, I can’t - “

 

He shushes her with a kiss to the corner of her mouth, to the edge of her jaw, her forehead.“Then don’t,” he says, but his fingers are still in her hair and hooked in the belt loop of her cutoffs and she’s still tucked into his side, arms looped lazily around him, so he adds, “Just stay.”

 

She nods, shifting to kiss his neck slowly, and then he just sort of melts back into the couch cushions, and she melts with him, and Bellamy figures - he’s almost 30, it’s probably about time he figured out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, anyways.And here she is.

 

∞

 

The first time he sees Clarke cry is also the day he discovers he _hates_ Abby Griffin.It’s also the first time he tells her he loves her, a month after that first collapse, but that comes later.

 

Now, Clarke is sitting on the front steps to his apartment building when he gets off his shift, wrapped in a big grey hoodie that was clearly meant for a man, tears glistening on her cheeks but waterproof mascara still in place.Bellamy kicks down the stand on his bike and scrambles to get his helmet off, leaving it balanced on the seat of the Ducati while Clarke rises unsteadily from the steps to meet him.  

 

“Hey,” he says, probably sounding too concerned for Clarke’s liking, but she just grabs him by the shoulder and hugs him fiercely, fingers digging into his leather jacket and face pressing into his collar.  

 

She smells like she came straight here from the hospital, still antiseptic-clean and not overlaid with the scent of char and the incense of the cinnamon candles she’s been trying to use to mask it.“I need to tell you something,” she mumbles into his shirt.  

 

He tugs his fingers through the tangled remains of her braid, and says, “Okay.”

 

They end up tangled on the couch, Clarke sitting with her legs across his lap, snug between the arm of the couch and him, her fingers fiddling nimbly with the zipper of his jacket.Her glasses are on the coffee table, nothing to impede the heartbreaking watery blue of her eyes.

 

“My mom dropped in for a surprise visit,” Clarke starts.“I stashed Jasper and Monty at the neighbors’, Raven and Wick’s, they’re mechanical engineers, the boys love them - “She stops herself, taking a deep breath.“Anyways, my mom.She - uh, well, have you heard of Jake Griffin?”

 

When he shakes his head, she digs his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it - the code is Octavia’s birth year - types in a quick search query, and turns it to face him.“My dad,” she says, while he scrolls through the endless list of news articles, “the first person executed for treason in fifty years.”

 

Bellamy squeezes her a little closer, but doesn’t interrupt.“He was a nuclear scientist.He discovered a flaw in the US nuclear energy program, one that could potentially lead to meltdowns in a number of plants.He was set to release the information to the public against the request of the government - because it would have shut down our nuclear weapons program, too.”  

 

She reaches over and taps an article, opening a long narrative on Jake Griffin’s senate hearing.“My mom’s a senator.She divorced my dad, so she could impartially head the committee investigating his crimes.She was the deciding vote for his treason conviction.”

 

“Clarke,” Bellamy starts, gently.She shakes her head, and kisses him hard to leave his lips useless.

 

“Wells and I always refused her visitation rights,” she continues.“His dad, too, until Wells died and he started going senile, because he was on the committee, too.He was one of my dad’s best friends.”  

 

A single tear slips down her cheek, and he reaches up to brush it away with his thumb before she can.“Anyways, I don’t - I don’t want her to have anything to do with my kids’ lives.That’s why Wells and I moved out here from DC, to avoid her, and now - now she shows up with a new husband looking for Jasper and Monty, and she was yelling that she was going to sue for visitation rights, and I don’t even know if you can do that, but - “

 

Bellamy kisses her, stopping the downward spiral of panic that she’s heading into.Clarke makes a sharp sound in the back of her throat and sits up to straddle his lap, fingers sliding through his hair, and _fuck_ that feels good, but he can taste the salt of her tears and he wants to find whoever’s responsible and smash their face in, because his girl doesn’t break - 

 

He pulls away after a long minute, nosing along her cheek.“Bring the kids here,” he murmurs.“My friend Murphy is a lawyer, we can call him in the morning.”She probably can afford a swanky hotel for the night, a high-end lawyer for the bullshit lawsuit that’s about to follow, but she just nods against him.

 

Raven and Wick bring the kids over well after dark in a modified monstrosity of a 70s mustang, with a couple of overnight bags complete with nuts and bolts and radio components, but no chemicals.  

 

Clarke gets the kids into bed in Bellamy’s room and he gets Wick and Raven a beer to thank them for their trouble.Raven waves him off, says one of them has to be able to operate heavy machinery, but Wick has enough that as he leaves he brags conspiratorially to Bellamy, “ _I’m tracking Abby’s car_.”

 

Bellamy grins, “That’s a federal offense.”

 

Wick just winks at him as Raven pulls him out the door. 

 

Clarke and Jasper and Monty have all ended up tangled together in his bed, even with Clarke lying on top of the covers next to them.She’s wearing a pair of his sweatpants, now, and the makeup has been scrubbed from her face - she’s drifting off by the time he eases carefully through the door, eyes only half open and blinking sleepily at him in the slight light from under his bathroom door.

 

One of her arms is trapped under the kids, but she reaches out with the other to snag his hand once he’s close enough, tangling her fingers in his.“Thank you,” she whispers.

 

Bellamy pulls her hand up to his lips and kisses the back of her knuckles.“As long as they don’t blow up my kitchen,” he whispers back, “I don’t keep an extinguisher for Class D fires in the apartment.”

 

Clarke smiles loosely from a weird angle up at him.For a long minute, neither of them make a sound, just  listening to the sleeping Jasper and Monty on the bed next to them, to the sound of Bellamy’s decades-old refridgerator and the HVAC kicking on on the fire escape outside the window.  

 

Finally, Clarke murmurs, “Will you stay?”

 

"As long as you'll have me," he mouth says, before his brain catches up and thinks  _too fast_.

 

Only it's not, because Clarke squeezes his hand and breathes, "Thank fuck."

 

He laughs softly, ducking his head. 

 

Somehow they manage to make enough space for him on the bed behind her without waking the kids, and he settles in with Clarke’s back pressed flush against his chest, smelling less like antiseptic and more like _them_ when he burrows his face into the swoop of her shoulder.  

 

It turns out, he fits really fucking well into that wide open space.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like this should be 60,000 words, but i have no patience


End file.
